


Pain Means You're Still Alive

by Anonymous



Category: Zombies Run!
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Bondage, Dissociation, Dubious Consent, F/M, Female Runner Five, Lesbian Runner Five, Mental Health Issues, Misunderstandings, One-Sided Relationship, POV Second Person, Past Rape/Non-con, Paula and Five are BFFs, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Present Tense, Rape/Non-con Elements, Rough Sex, Season/Series 05 Spoilers, Self-Harm, Self-harm via sex, Stockholm Syndrome, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-21
Updated: 2016-08-21
Packaged: 2018-08-10 03:20:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,197
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7828474
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tom screams in his sleep; Five is only happy when dreaming.<br/>Tom gets better with time; Five gets worse.<br/>Tom has years of anger to work off; Five needs someone to punish her.<br/>And that's how Tom ends up shagging his sister's love interest.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pain Means You're Still Alive

Life in Noah base is slow. Everyone is tired and frazzled about reclaiming Abel… everyone except you. You barely feel anything since Moonchild. You’ve been a ghost, floating through life, escaping into your head (to her voice) at the slightest inconvenience. Only now, without extreme stress to shut you down, your dead girlfriend is nowhere to be found.

You barely eat. You barely sleep. You barely feel the ground under your feet when you run.

When the loneliness hurts like a heart attack, you raid the alcohol stash and hide in one of the old, unused rooms.

It’s Tom who finds you. He’s not typically supposed to be wandering, but Janine has loosened his leash a bit now that he’s stable. He finds you halfway into a bottle of room temperature vodka, rubbing the smooth scar tissue from when the shrapnel grazed your cheek. The shrapnel from the flotilla you destroyed. You keep touching your face, waiting for the vodka to numb you enough that you can pretend your fingers are Moonchild’s.

“Oh, Runner Five,” Tom greets you. “I didn’t realize you came here to think, too. Do you mind if I join you?”

You shrug.

Tom sits next to you on the ugly green couch. You both sit in silence for so long that he eventually dozes off, head tilted back. You ignore him until his soft snores turn to incoherent shouting. You elbow him awake. He startles, arms flailing.

“Oh,” he says, settling down. “Five. It’s you. Sorry. I forgot where I was for a moment.”

You pull your sleeve over your palm and wipe your slobber off the mouth of the bottle, then hand it to him.

“Thanks, Five.” He gulps down the vodka. “I’m not supposed to have much while taking lithium, but the apocalypse calls for a drink every once in a while. Don't you think so?”

You nod.

“I still dream about Algeria every night,” he says. “I wonder if I’ll ever dream about normal things again.”

You can’t say anything. You’ve dreamt about Moonchild every night since… it feels like forever, or at least a few years, but you know it hasn't been that long. You reclaim the bottle, too tipsy to bother wiping down the mouth before chugging down more vodka.

“At least one of us is sane.”

You laugh at that, spraying the burning alcohol all over your hand.

 _No,_ you tell him. If anyone knew what was really going on in your head, they’d lock you up forever, best case scenario. You can’t tell anyone just how nuts you really are.

“Try me. I can keep a secret. And I doubt you’re worse off than me.”

_No._

“Suit yourself. I’ll listen if you change your mind, though.”

The two of you sit in silence again. The vodka seeps out of your stomach and into your brain. It doesn’t take you long to crack and spill all your secrets.

_Why was being mind controlled was so lovely?_

_Will anything ever feel that good again?_

_Why did they have to cut you off from her love?_

_Why do they all assume you’re distraught from guilt?_

_Why didn’t she take your hand?_

_Why did she start talking to you?_

_Why won’t she talk to you anymore?_

“I wasn’t here for that, at least, not as an ally. But I don’t think that’s as crazy as you think it is.”

 _No._ He doesn’t understand. Janine will literally murder you if she thinks you’re at risk of being unpredictable.

“That’s a feeling I’m well-acquainted with,” he chuckles. “Don’t worry, Five. Your secret is safe with me. I’m excellent at keeping secrets.”

The sadness in his voice reminds you of all he’s been through. He’s more of a hero than you’ll ever be, and he sure as hell didn’t blow up thousands of allies. (At least, not that you know of.) Your emotions splatter like zombie brains on a white wall, as indecipherable as a Jackson Pollock forgery. Blue melancholy, longing for Moonchild, aching with empathy for Tom’s trauma. Yellow sunshine, sand, admiration for Tom's field skills on the beach. Green harmony, growth, the desire to heal Tom with human touch. Red anger, red hot pain, red hot desire for someone, anyone to bend you over the sofa and give you the fucking of a lifetime.

_Tom?_

“Yes?”

_Sex?_

“Yes.”

The two of you strip down without preamble. He folds his clothes; you chuck yours across the room so you can’t chicken out. Once you’re naked, you freeze. You haven’t been naked in front of anyone since Moonchild. From the way Tom strokes your spine, he hasn’t touched anyone like this since before Algeria.

"You can always change your mind," he says. "There's no need to be frightened."

He kisses your shoulder. You shrug his mouth away. He steps back.

“No foreplay?” he asks.

_No._

You kneel on the pastel green couch, thinking all the while about what a horrible idea this is. He still has moments of madness. He might not pay attention to you. He might not stop if he’s hurting you and you can’t tell him to stop. He might not stop even if you tell him to.

Good.

Despite his size, he slides in easily enough, thanks to generous amounts of spit and the expert skillset you've come to expect from him. You blow out a breath as he invades you. It hurts, and you’re glad for that. Your dirty fingernails dig into the arm of the couch, bracing yourself as he pulls out. He slides back in, and you immediately snap into a deep trance. You only surface to respond to questions.

“Good?”

_Yeah._

He tries to touch you, his fingers rubbing tentative circles. You push his hand away and go back to dissociating. He settles on holding your hip, shaking you back to reality a moment later.

“Is it all right if I go a little harder?”

_Sure._

You linger above the surface for a few minutes that time. The pain is refreshing, the first thing you’ve felt in ages.

_Harder._

“Really?”

_Yes._

You grit your teeth. Tom’s fingers bruise your hips.

“Good?”

_Yes. Faster._

"If you're sure."

He’s grunting from exertion and pleasure. You’re silent. You dissociate again, this time without meaning to. You just start thinking about Moonchild, and that sends you deep into the abyss. You don’t even recall what you were thinking about when he interrupts you again, his voice strained this time.

“Five?”

_Hm?_

“Should I pull out?”

_Don’t care._

The frenzy stops, and a moment later you feel him shoot his load across your lower back. He wipes you clean with his sock, and the two of you dress silently. You’re still dissociating, missing seconds here and there as you dress. He puts his arm on your shoulders, and you shy away from him.

“Are you all right?” he asks.

You shrug.

“Do you want to be left alone?”

You shrug again.

“I’ll clear out.” He zips his trousers. “Thanks. You know where to find me if you want to try that again.”

When he's gone, you top off your vodka-filled stomach and then fall asleep on the sofa.

~~~

You don’t take him up on his offer that night, or that week, or ever. But a few days later, he knocks on your door in the middle of the night and asks if he can sleep in your room. You nod. You tell yourself you’re being nice, because he looks like he’s just had another nightmare.

He falls asleep as soon as he crashes diagonally in your double bed. You shove him over and try to get back to sleep.

Your dreams aren’t exactly nightmares. You dream that Moonchild is brushing your hair again, braiding it, sticking pretty little flowers into it. You rest your head on her lap, and she leans down to kiss you. You’re both smiling so much that your teeth scrape each other’s lips, but neither of you minds. It's the purest happiness you've ever felt.

The nightmare is waking up.

But this time, someone is holding you, whispering your name. You relax for a moment, until you realize that it’s not Moonchild. It’s not even a woman. You push Tom away and jump out of bed, but there’s nowhere you want to go.

“You were calling for her,” he says. “I’m sorry for waking you. I didn’t figure you’d want the others to hear.”

He’s right. You sit down on the bed, your back to him.

“May I rub your shoulders?” he asks.

You shrug. He begins massaging you. He has a much lighter touch than expected. It feels… nice. You close your eyes.

“It’s a relief to have a friend,” he says. “A friend who understands. You keep things very quiet, Five, but I'm glad you understand."

_Yeah._

"I just wish Jane wasn't in love with you. You know that she is, don't you?"

You know. You've known for a long time. But you haven't been in a good place to love anyone back for a long time. You slide your hand down the front of his trousers. He needs no further encouragement. The two of you strip down even faster than last time. You toss an assortment of neckties you've been collecting at him and pat the bedposts.

“You want to be tied up?” he asks.

You nod.

He ties you up expertly. You’re not attracted to him, but boy are you attracted to his expert rope-tying skills. You test your bonds and find you can barely even wiggle. He has you spread eagle on your back, your wrists and ankles secured to your bed. 

“No foreplay again?” he asks.

_No._

He spits in his hand again. You almost wish he wouldn't bother. You need to be punished—not for the people you murdered (although that too, now that you think about it), but for your longing for Moonchild. Fortunately, he works up to a frenetic pace in no time. You sigh in relief and drift away from the pain.

“Five.”

You raise your head, annoyed at being pulled out of your safe little bubble.

“You’re bleeding. Do you want me to keep going?”

You give him a thumbs up with one of your bound hands, not even blinking.

"It's okay, you know," he says. "I'm not Moonchild, but I can pretend to be. I know you miss her."

He's too kind to you, especially given that you're only using him to self harm. He buries his face in your chest, and you weep silently from guilt. Tom is a good guy, and he deserves a lot better than you. For starters, he deserves someone who's attracted to him for something other than his rock-throwing skills. You stare up at the ceiling and try to disengage from the mental pain again.

Suddenly, there's a knock, and then the door opens. “Runner Five, are you all right? Maxine said she thought she heard—”

Janine flips on the light, and before you know what’s happening, Tom is on the floor with Janine on top of him. She’s got him in some sort of special hold with one arm, and she’s beating him with the other. 

“I will kill you!” Janine is screeching. “I _knew_ you couldn’t be trusted! I knew you you were a danger to our community! But I ignored my instincts! And now I find you violating one of my runners!” She lets out a roar so fierce it chills you.

“No, Jane, it’s not— ow! It’s not like that! You know I would never—ah! Jane, listen to me!”

You try to imagine how it must have looked to Janine. You try to imagine what you would think if you walked in on your ex-special forces brother on top of a crying, bleeding, dissociating friend, much less at the violent pace Tom was keeping up. You laugh at how unfortunate the whole situation is. Very  _Comedy of Errors._

“Listen! Ask Five!” Tom cries. “Five will tell you!”

“Five is a lesbian!” Janine punches him again. “Five has no interest in men! Especially not scarred, psychotic, _rapist_ men!”

The venom in her voice when she said the word “psychotic” terrifies you to your core, and you find yourself unable to speak. You swallow a few times, but your voice is gone. You try in vain to untie yourself.

“Janine, stop!”

Paula rushes in and pulls Janine off Tom. Maxine unties you. Sam hangs back, holding Sara and covering her eyes.

“Are you all right, Five?” Maxine asks. “Oh my god. Five's bleeding."

"Period?" Paula suggests.

"No, it looks like there’s been some tearing.”

Janine punches Tom again. You can’t see, but it sounds painful.

"Yeah, definitely tearing. Five, let me look at it—"

Maxine tries to touch you gently, but you suck in air through your teeth and knee her hand away.

_Stop. Tom's telling the truth. Leave him alone._

“I think she’s scared of Tom retaliating against her,” Maxine says. “Maybe you should move him to another room?”

You and Tom both protest at the same time.

“Now, wait a moment,” Paula interrupts. “If Five says it was consensual, I believe her.”

“What?” Maxine covers you with your sheet. “Paula, even ignoring the tearing… and the fact that Five was tied up and crying when we got here… have you forgotten that Five’s not attracted to men?”

“No, darling, I haven’t forgotten,” Paula says patiently. “Have you forgotten that Five and I are friends and chat together while doing the washing up? Five has a history of sleeping with men as a form of self-harm."

The look Tom gives Five is painful, and the fact that his left eye is already swollen shut only makes Five feel worse.

“I could be wrong, but I really think Tom’s telling the truth in this case.” Paula helps Janine onto her feet. "Perhaps Five felt safe enough with Tom to have rough sex as a coping mechanism."

“A lesbian having sex with a man?” Maxine raises an eyebrow. “If you say so. I’m not judging, but it does kind of feel like maybe you shouldn’t call yourself a lesbian if that’s what you’re into. Truth in advertising.”

“I think the word you’re looking for is ‘bi erasure,’” Paula says.

You pull the blanket up to your nose. Others are peeking into the room: Runners Two, Nine, Seventeen, and Twenty-One. Peter. Amelia. They're ogling Tom naked and bloody on the floor of your bedroom, and you naked with your wrists red and borderline raw. Amelia whispers something to Runner Two that you can't make out. You wonder who Amelia is shagging, because you can't think of any other reason for her to be here so late at night, but of course you don't ask that. You try to draw your attention back to Maxine, who wants you to look her in the eye.

“Five, you would tell us if Tom hurt you against your will, wouldn’t you?” Maxine asks. “Even if you’re scared, you wouldn’t let him stay here with me and Paula and—” She shudders. “—and Sara, if he hurt you, right? You promise on Sara's life that he didn't rape you?”

You nod.

“Very well then,” Janine says stiffly. “Tom… I… apologize for my hasty assumption.”

“I don’t blame you,” he says. “I understand what it looked like.”

“Oh god! Tom!” Jody rushes to help him up. “Janine, what did you do to him?! Tom, what did you do?”

Tom groans deeply as Jody helps him onto his feet. "It was a misunderstanding, that's all. She did the right thing."

"But what happened?!" Jody helps Tom back into his boxers.

“Tom and Five were having violent, kinky bondage sex,” Amelia cooes. "My favorite kind. And then Janine, ever the fun police, got jealous, apparently, and decided to fight Tom for Five's hand. Or something."

"It looked like—" Janine can't finish her sentence. She locks herself in Five's toilet, and a moment later retching sounds come from inside.

"I suppose not everyone's reaction to catching your brother with the woman you love would be to join them," Amelia jokes. "That's certainly what  _I_ would have done if I'd walked in on Five and Tom."

“Shut. Up.” Jody bares her teeth at Amelia. “Not another word.”

“Or what?” Amelia taunts. “You’ll strangle me?”

Jody stomps on Amelia's slippered foot. Amelia hisses in pain, hopping around and holding onto her foot.

"Come on, Tom." Jody supports him through the doorway. "I'll get you back to your room. I bet we have some meat to put on your eye. I'm so sorry that happened to you, Tom."

"You know, Jody, if you want to hurt me, all you have to do is ask!" Amelia calls down the hall. "I'm very agreeable to being whipped. And choked!"

Jody seems to ignore her.

"All right," Paula shoos everyone away. "Let's give Five some privacy. There's nothing to see here. Everyone, back to bed."

Once the crowd is gone, Janine emerges from the toilet.

“I expected better of you, Five,” she says quietly. "You should have known my brother was off limits."

She walks straight out of the room, just as Sara starts to fuss. Maxine and Paula leave to take care of their child, shutting the door as they go.

The shock finally wears off a few seconds later, and you bury your face into your pillow to cry.

You’ve lost two girlfriends in as many years. The world shows no signs of getting any better. You’ve just been thoroughly humiliated in front of all of your closest friends, at least the ones who aren’t being tortured and starved under a dictator. Paula and Maxine don’t think you should call yourself a lesbian, and Janine will probably hate you to her dying day, and Tom and Jody are off together being happy. And it’s not that you don’t want them to be happy, or even be happy together… quite the opposite, actually! You think they'd make a great couple. A healthy couple. Tom deserves someone like Jody.

But you don’t want to be alone, and now you are. Again. Everything hurts, every part of your body and mind and spirit. You can't disengage from the pain this time.

You’re sobbing so hard you can’t catch your breath when someone knocks on your door.

“It’s Paula. I have vodka.”

You manage to gulp out that she can come in. She enters and shuts the door behind her.

“I know you’ve been in a bad mental place lately. I don’t think I realized just how bad, though,” she says. “Or maybe I noticed and was too wrapped up in my own personal drama to pay attention. But I’m here now, Five. Let’s talk. Like we used to.”

She pours herself a glass of vodka and then hands you the bottle. She toasts the side of the bottle as you raise it to your lips.

 _“L’chaim_ ,” she says. “Now. What’s going on with you? Tell me all about it.”

You chug the vodka and then, when you can speak again, you spew all of the poisonous hurt out for Paula to take care of.


End file.
